A Click in the Ribs
Stiff. Cold plastic. Then a click inside my ribs. My paws unlocked. I lifted one front foot. It obeyed. A quiet tap on the wooden shelf beneath me. Safe. I leaned forward, lowering my snout toward a small glossy black pumpkin sitting right in front of me. Cold ceramic. Hollow hollow sound when bone met glaze. Good. Stood still, watchful among the motionless ghosts.